


Whatever it Takes (For World Peace)

by ead13



Category: Elder Scrolls Online
Genre: Kinktober 2020, Lies of Omission, Multi, sexual favors, undernegotiated kinks
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-10-04
Updated: 2020-10-30
Packaged: 2021-03-07 22:21:55
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 15
Words: 6,771
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26815036
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ead13/pseuds/ead13
Summary: Rigurt left Windhelm with one goal in his dense mind: smooth things over with the other regions of Tamriel so everyone would stop fighting over that empty throne and share a mead. Why, Jorunn had practically thrown him out in his enthusiasm for making this reality! As he travels across the continent seeking to make allies of the nations, he seems to somehow attract all manner of lovers with all manner of...inclinations. If it gets a treaty signed, Rigurt is happy to oblige!Note: Trigger warnings will be noted at the start of each chapter
Kudos: 2





	1. A Blade in the Mist

**Author's Note:**

> Why is there no Rigurt content? I love Rigurt! He and Kinktober 2020 just seemed like a match made in Aetherius.

Day 1: Knifeplay  
Warnings: Dubious consent depending on how you read it

Rigurt was well and truly lost. The mist clinging to the ground was not helping matters, and, as he told himself, the ridiculous foreign terrain of Deshan made his path even more indistinguishable (the snow of Eastmarch had been quite useful for keeping track of his footprints). No sign of Mournhold that he could see, which was certainly not a good sign considering it was a huge city that should be on the horizon if he was anywhere near it.

“Dibella’s arse,” he muttered, clutching his pack tightly. The only thing he could do was trudge on in one direction and hope to find some kind of civilization eventually. What a disaster! He was supposed to meet with a group of Nord soldiers from the Pact tomorrow morning to get approval for entry into the city, and if he was late, his one chance to enter the capital of the Dark Elves would be lost. So much for his first diplomatic mission!

Before he could connect to a road, he found a dagger nearly connecting to his throat. A mere hair’s breadth from piercing his skin, he could do nothing but freeze with a choked gasp as another hand grabbed him by a ponytail and yanked his head backwards to bare his throat to the blade. “What are you doing in Ashlander territory, Nord scum?” He could not see his assailant, but the voice was feminine, albeit rough. Ashlanders? He wracked his memory for information on this group of people, but came up blank. They were not, after all, the ones he was sent to negotiate with. Besides, it was a bit hard to think on a good day, much less one where his life was resting on the knife’s edge.

“I…uh…Rigurt…ambassador…Nord Cultural Exchange…” he gasped, flailing his arms uselessly to demonstrate his innocence. When he swallowed, his adam’s apple bobbed enough to feel the cold of the metal on his skin. “Lost…”

“Lost?” The Ashlander snorted. “How does one get so lost that they end up in the Vale of the Ghost Snake?”

“Veil of the…” He conjured an image of a shrouded serpent and swallowed again. “Rigurt just wants to get to Mournhold…”

At that she spat into the dirt. “Those worshippers of the false gods… I should slit your throat right now.”

“I come in peace!” he insisted, voice growing loud, rising with his panic. Rigurt was no slouch in battle, but being caught so off guard, he was completely at the Ashlander’s mercy. “This is all just unfortunate mistake. Please, Rigurt will leave at once!”

Suddenly, he felt his attacker lean in closer so she was whispering into his ear. “For a Nord, you are pathetic. Not worth dirtying my blade. Perhaps there is a way to earn your passage through Mabrigash lands though…” Rigurt was spun around and tossed against a tree trunk before he could react. Amazing such a small elf had such strength, he mused in his daze. It wasn’t long before the blade was at his neck once more as she leaned in, blood-red eyes blazing. “The smell of fear on you excites me, Nord. Sit here like a good boy and let me get off on your leg, and I will point you in the direction of Mournhold.”

Rigurt’s eyes were wide as saucers. “You want to…on my leg?”

“Well, I would certainly never let filth like you touch me.”

“What if Rigurt doesn’t want to…” He was no stranger to sex; he’d bedded all manner of maidens and wenches in his day, but something about doing such things with a knife-wielding Dark Elf whose features he could barely see under her scarf made him hesitate to speak of such things.

She actually shrugged at that. “Then I leave you here to wander, and the next Mabrigash that finds you may not be as gracious as I.”

He certainly was not thrilled with the idea, but being given the option to say no soothed his nerves somewhat. He couldn’t afford to miss his meeting with those Pact soldiers. He couldn’t afford to fail in his first ever diplomatic mission. He needed those directions. “All right.”

She moved quickly to straddle one of his thick thighs, all the while keeping the blade at his neck. In fact, she lazily traced the tip down his throat and to the collar of his tunic. “You Nords are all the same. Charge headlong into battle, no concept of subtlety. Mephala showed us long ago the uses of a blade in the dark. Also, the benefits of sex…” Though her mouth was hidden, he could imagine her smirking as her eyes crinkled just so with amusement. Slowly, she began to grind her core on his leg. He could feel the pull of her leathers on him. “Mmmm, nothing like having your enemies under you, frozen under your dagger.”

“Not to complain, small elf, but must you use the blade? Rigurt does as you ask…”

“But that’s part of the fun!” With those words, she flipped her dagger and began cutting away parts of his tunic, exposing his hairy chest, all dirty blonde curls. Then she let the flat of the blade rest against his heart as she leaned over and bit him at the juncture of his neck and shoulder. Rigurt couldn’t help the whimper that escaped, which only seemed to add fuel to the fire. She sped up her movements, rocking heavily now. “Yes, that’s it…”

“You won’t slip with that dagger, right?”

“This dagger is more natural in my hand than even your own cock in yours. Hold still and I won’t draw blood. By Azura, all that bulk and muscle and still you are nothing.” Her movements became stilted, and he could feel the way she dug in, angling to press firmly against his thigh bone. She reached up and grabbed his hair again, drawing another helpless moan from Rigurt. That was enough to send her over the edge, or so it appeared to him as every muscle in her body clenched. In different circumstances, the whole thing might have been arousing, but with the Dark Elf covered nearly head to toe and refusing to vocalize her pleasure whatsoever, it all felt rather impersonal. Well, he’d be grateful her demands were not any steeper than that.

“Good boy,” she breathed, removing herself from his body with one final caress of the knife’s blade. Apparently her orgasm hadn’t left her weak at the knees. “Now, head that way,” she pointed, in which direction, Rigurt had no clue, “and walk until sundown. If you aren’t at Mournhold then, you’ll at least be able to see it. Leave our territory immediately.”

Rigurt struggled to his feet, warily eying the Ashlander as she gradually faded back into the mist. Could have been worse, he supposed. Now...which direction had she pointed in?


	2. Making Himself Useful

Day 2: Human Furniture  
Warnings: none

“Dear Jorunn,

Your ambassador has proven most gracious and helpful. His pleas for peace are so earnest, and his willingness to do what must be done to that end so powerful, I am inclined to meet for talks.”

The treethane paused, the quill in her hand stopping as well. She reached down and groped a naked ass cheek. “What do you think so far, Rigurt?”

“This is good, very good,” he acknowledged as he shifted uncomfortably. “But are you almost done? Rigurt can’t feel his knees…”

When the treethane had invited him to her quarters after their meeting, Rigurt leapt at the chance, expecting something quite different. How would it feel to have a tiny elf clinging around his cock? She was a beautiful creature with dark shining eyes, and he found himself intoxicated as if from his favored mead. Instead of falling into bed, however, he was the only one naked, and she was sitting on him as if he were just another chair, bent on his hands and knees while she penned a letter.

“Hush! Chairs do not speak!” She hummed thoughtfully before getting off of him. “Do not move.” Rigurt craned his head to try and see what she was doing, but she was too far out of his sight, and he had no intention of disobeying his lover for the evening. Instead, he was forced to listen closely. It sounded like she was removing her boots as something thumped against the floor across the room. Then, the soft groaning of leather as she pulled it from her body. Rigurt liked the thought of that, wished he could watch her strip those tight leathers from her lithe body. His cock throbbed at the very thought, but he could say and do nothing.

Suddenly, she was standing before him, naked from the waist down and holding what appeared to be her smalls. Oh, just a little closer! He could smell her arousal and wanted so badly to take a lick… But no. As he gaped, she shoved her smallclothes into his mouth. “That should keep you quiet while I finish this.”

Rigurt groaned in frustration as she resumed sitting on his back, feeling her wetness on his back now that her core was exposed, and sampling her juices in a way he hadn’t anticipated as they mixed with the taste of leather.

The Bosmer rubbed his corded shoulder affectionately. “Hmm, I rather like this new chair. Like everything in Valenwood, made of flesh and bone…”


	3. Power Play

Day 3: Orgasm Denial  
Warnings: None

He felt it building to the point of no return, the muscles in his groin tensing in anticipation. Yes! Thank Kyne, yes!

And then to his dismay, her dark, elegant hand squeezed him hard at the base and froze his impending orgasm in painful place for the fifth time that night. Rigurt, a manly Nord, nearly wept. “Lady Inaya! Please!”

Lady Inaya, who scheduled appointments with King Fahara’jad, rarely had the luxury of control. Always, it was “Do this” or “Fix this”. When the bumbling Nord came looking for an audience with the King, she saw an opportunity to have her most secret needs met. The truth was, she was no “Lady”, as far as titles went. Rigurt did not need to know that, and hearing that name on his lips gave her a feeling of power she never got. That, and being able to control when and how he orgasmed that night. “That’s right, Rigurt, beg me, and I might have pity on you,” her voice rang out brightly, a mischievous smile on her full lips

‘Oh, Lady Inaya, I beg you, yes!” He squirmed uncomfortably at the pressure in his balls. “I can’t take much more of this!” It hadn’t been hard to convince him that a quick tryst would secure a time with the king, and he’d been oh so eager to sample her, deep-hued, luscious and exotic. As seemed to be the case so often lately, however, things were not that simple. Using hands and mouth, she’d brought him to the brink so many times he couldn’t keep track, always pulling away at the last minute. It was a game, he realized somewhere in the haze of his pleasure, and it was too late to quit. Begging was indeed all he could do now.

“Oh, you are a big, tough Nord. I’m sure you can handle it.” A finger traced up his length, making him shiver even as she still held him fast.

“Please! Let me cum! I need it so bad!” When she remained skeptical, he continued, spewing whatever words came to his addled brain that would earn him respite. “You control it! Only you can let me! Please Lady Inaya, have mercy on me!”

And that did it. Being reminded of her power over him stoked her ego enough that she conceded, removing her grasp and jerking him off quickly. It was over in seconds after that. So much sensation, if a normal orgasm was falling off the Velothi Mountains, this was like falling off Monahven itself. When his mind cleared, he would consider whether it was worth the torment.


	4. Leather

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Day 4: Leather
> 
> Warnings: none

The Ranger King Camoran had assigned him as he traveled from Eldenroot to Silvenar was a marvel, Rigurt contemplated as he followed the spry Bosmer along overgrown paths. She never once doubted the direction she’d chosen, even when Rigurt would have been utterly lost. She could sense the most minute change in the forest around her. She could hit a target with pinpoint accuracy even at great distances, and track prey his own eyes could never have detected, feats which put food in the cooking pot as they traveled on. Even the ease with which she skinned and butchered her quarry fascinated the Nord, particularly in the contrast between her delicate form and her willingness to get her hands bloody.

Then there were the leathers. Shor’s bones, those leathers… It made no tactical sense to have her firm, toned stomach exposed like that, but he could certainly appreciate the sun-kissed skin he was allowed to see. And the way the leathers clung to her form… Praise Dibella for the Bosmer’s love of leather over billowy fabrics for a view like the one he had as he followed behind her, watching the sway of her ass.

He nearly ran into her as she stopped abruptly. She tilted her head, listening for something, and seemed satisfied after a moment. “I think we ought to rest here for a moment.”

“Rigurt is fine, if that is what you worry about little elf.”

“Are you though?” Suddenly, a playful smile crossed her face. “Don’t think I don’t notice how you look at me.”

Rigurt’s face turned red with embarrassment. He was an ambassador, and harassing someone of a culture he was trying to make peace with would be a huge blunder. Damn his wandering eyes! “I…I apologize…”

She held up a hand, still smiling. “Don’t apologize. Truth is, I’ve been curious about you as well. I’ve never tried it with a Nord before. I bet the stretch is marvelous…”

His embarrassment quickly morphed to confidence at her words. What a lucky turn of events! “They tell me that, yes. But…here? In the middle of the jungle?”

“Psh. There is nothing to fear. Take me against a tree, that’s a very Bosmer way to do things.”

“But what about the senche-lions?”

“I’ll hear them coming, even in the heat of the moment. Besides,” she winked, “it adds to the excitement.”

That was good enough for Rigurt, who was no longer thinking with his head anyhow. His meaty hands reached out for his guide and attempted to unfasten the buckles of her leather armor. Between his inherent clumsiness and his eagerness, it wasn’t particularly effective. Finally, she swatted his hands away and began the process of removing her leathers herself. “You foreigners all love seeing us in this type of armor. But you love seeing us out of it even more…”


	5. Reward for a Job Well Done

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Day 5: Double Penetration
> 
> Warnings: None

“Rigurt, how in Oblivion did you…hic!...get those two to show up? I’m sorry, but I have my doubts it was your words.” The inebriated woman slapped him on the back with a definite stagger forward.

“Well, Jarl Moryyn, it was a simple matter of a Wood Elf butcher and a baby horker.” Rigurt puffed out his chest in pride. “Rigurt always knows what to do.”

Jarl Moryyn blinked, her eyes hazy with alcohol. To her credit, Rigurt’s explanation wouldn’t make sense to even a sober person. “I see. In any case, I think we need to celebrate this marvelous achievement.”

The diplomat of Eastmarch looked around the hunting lodge, but was unable to find a single unopened bottle of mead with which to toast their triumph. He, the Jarl, and their guests had consumed everything in order to keep relaxed during the otherwise intense negotiations. “With what, my Jarl? Do you have a hidden stash of Voljarr’s?”

“Oh no, my friend, something better. Hey, Rinda!” the Jarl suddenly shouted, gaining the attention of her bodyguard as she stood outside the door.

The blonde warrior peered inside the lodge. “Yes, my Jarl?”

Moryyn grinned. “Get the harness. This calls for a real celebration.”

Rinda looked at Rigurt and blushed, just as quickly averting her gaze. “But he’s…”

“He’ll join us! I feel like being taken from both ends, and Rigurt here deserves a fine reward.”

Rigurt was no lightweight, unable to hold his alcohol, but it still took a few seconds to process exactly what the Jarl was hinting at. It took her beginning to shed her cloak and tunic to put it all together. “Wait… You want Rigurt to…with you, most excellent Jarl?” He blinked rapidly, unable to comprehend such a thought. He may be a fine diplomat, but the Jarl was the leader of an entire hold, far above him in status. To even consider such an act with the likes of her…

Moryyn smirked at him as she began to shed her trousers. “Rinda will take me from the front, and you will take me from behind. That is, if you are okay with such a thing. Do not feel forced.”

Social propriety be damned, the idea of the beautiful Nord ruler sandwiched between him and another sent the blood rushing south. His experiences were varied, but never had he participated in a three-some. “It would be an honor, highness.”

Before long, both he and the Jarl’s bodyguard were penetrating her, all clothes shed to the floor of the lodge, taking turns thrusting. The Jarl moaned loudly in delight, babbling about what a good idea this was. Rigurt was only sorry that from his position, he couldn’t get a good look at the women, who were clearly used to doing this sort of thing before and who held back none of their intimacy. Not that it mattered in the end. Between the sounds they made and the feeling of being buried to the hilt in such a powerful person as the Jarl, it was more than sufficient to bring him to his end.


	6. Woman of Mystery

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Day 6: Sensory Deprivation
> 
> Warnings: None

The giggles hanging in the air seemed to surround him, all the more so due to the satin blindfold covering his eyes. It was quite effective at blocking out all light, forcing him to read his surroundings with his other senses. For example, even now he could hear a shuffling of fabric underneath the sounds of the laughter. He felt a slight dip in the mattress (she was only a slip of a thing, barely enough weight to make it noticeable). He smelled her arousal, knew she was close.

And then, without any warning, he was tasting her. He went to work with gusto despite how she’d startled him, focusing on her unique flavor. He idly wondered if there was a difference in how women from each race tasted, and quickly decided he should make it a point to find out while on his expedition. It would certainly be hard to improve upon the Breton lass grinding against his mouth. Shame he couldn’t bask in her nude form…

“Oh Rigurt, that’s good!”

He gave one good lick before pulling away. “Good enough that you will take off this blindfold now? Rigurt wants to see you!” 

She laughed again at his deep, rough tone full of arousal and his words of eagerness, patting his bearded cheek. “Oh no. This makes it better.”

“But you are beautiful…” he pouted, remembering stray wisps of her chestnut curls emerging from her hood, and the creamy skin of her hands, the only real skin he could see. Well, perhaps saying so was a stretch given how little of her he’d really seen. All he could do since she’d insisted on this course of action was imagine how those petite breasts looked bared, and whether or not she had curls down below that matched those on her head. He couldn’t imagine why she’d insist on blindfolding him after leading him to a rented room of the tavern to have some fun. Unless… “Troll’s blood, you’re not a hagraven in disguise, are you?”

In the silence that followed, Rigurt was acutely aware of her disbelief. Then, she collapsed onto his naked chest in a fit of laughter. “No, Rigurt, not at all! It’s just a game. It makes you feel more strongly. So, for example, when I do this…” She grazed her nails down the inside of his thigh, earning a surprised whine from the Nord. “You see?”

It certainly had nothing to do with the fact that she was a local noble’s daughter and a liaison with Rigurt would hinder the poor man’s efforts for peace in Wayrest. She’d sate her curiosity without him ever being the wiser.


	7. Not the Time!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Day 7: Tentacles
> 
> Warnings: Non-con (assuming the plant counts as sentient?) It's nongraphic.

Of all the places to get lost in, the swamps in Black Marsh were probably the worst. Rigurt, who was normally easy-going, was starting to worry as he slogged through the muck, picking one direction and sticking with it despite the difficult terrain and lack of any visible path. He’d have to hit civilization sooner or later, right?

But he could only take so much before needing a rest. “Shor’s bones…” he cursed, leaning against a tree to take in some air. The air of the swamps was humid, and difficult to breathe in. He missed the clean, crisp stuff back in Eastmarch.

As he attempted to recover his stamina, he failed to notice the vines creeping forward, slowly wrapping around his ankles. It wasn’t until he took a step forward to resume his trek that he found out, and by then it was too late as he fell face-first into the mire. He spluttered, clawing the mud from his face, and by the time he’d regained some semblance of cognition, the vines were traveling further up his body. Pinned to the ground by a…plant? “Orkey take you!” he bellowed as he thrashed with all his might. It did him no good. Now he was starting to panic. “Help!” he yelled to whomever could hear. There was no sound save the humming of wasps and croaking of frogs. He was well and truly alone, and more than likely in over his head. What a terrible way to go for a Nord; no glorious battle or anything of the sort, just a stupid plant in a stupid swamp.

His dark thoughts were interrupted as the vines snaked beneath his body and rubbed between his legs. Rigurt shuddered unconsciously, and was further perplexed by his body’s reaction as this motion continued, massaging against his most intimate areas. The blood was rushing to places it shouldn’t be. He was going to die, so why in Oblivion was he getting turned on by this?! And why was being held down adding to the intensity of the experience? He moaned in despair and arousal as his arms became trapped in vines. What a disgrace he was…

At that moment, a slashing sound of metal against plant was heard. “A dryskin? Out here? By Sithis…” All the tension in the vines holding him down went slack, and Rigurt was flinging them aside without hesitation. 

He must have been a sight, covered in mud from head to toe as he turned to face his liberator. “Lizard friend! Thank Kyne! Rigurt owes you a debt of gratitude!”

The Argonian that stumbled upon him erected the spine of annoyance, and then amusement when he noticed the tent in the bumbling Nord’s pants. Dryskins were bizarre.


	8. Marked for Entry

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Day 8: Bukkake
> 
> Warnings: Dubious Consent (but Rigurt is not touched, so...?)

“I’m sorry, Orc friend, but this Rigurt will not do. Rigurt is not that sort of man,” the Nord ambassador smiled nervously as he addressed the stronghold guard. As if the green skin and tusks weren’t enough, the Orc before him was absolutely expressionless, adding to his uneasiness.

“The rules of this stronghold are clear, outsider. If you wish to speak with the chief, you must be marked. This shows your submission. I will not touch you, if that is what you worry about.”

Rigurt weighed his options. This stronghold was close to home, and an important source of allies. It was of the utmost importance that he win them over. “You promise you will not touch Rigurt?”

“Mauloch’s jawbone, of course! And believe me, I won’t need to.” The Orc guard’s eyes took a hungry glint. “Now remove your shirt and get on your knees.”

Rigurt fumbled with the clasps on his cloak, then pulled off his jerkin, revealing a slightly pudgy gut and a chest covered in dirty blonde hair. Slowly he sank to his knees, flushing a bit with embarrassment at his position.

“Good…” the Orc growled, licking his lips as he unfastened his trousers. He never took them off, just pulled them low enough to free himself as he began to stroke his length. Somehow he was already swollen with arousal. “Nothing does it for me quite like seeing a Nord brute on their knees. Now, beg!”

Rigurt blinked unsurely. “Beg?”

“Beg me to mark you. I know you want it.”

No, not really, but it had to be done. “I…uh…please mark me…”

The words were pathetic, but his expression sent a thrill through the Orc. “That was terrible. Again!”

He squeezed his eyes shut. “Please mark me.”

By this point, his humiliation was more than enough. Between that and his ministrations, the Orc shot his seed all over the Nord’s chest, with drops even getting into his beard. Rigurt did his best not to cringe, lest he offend the Orc, but he did not appreciate the warm, sticky feeling.

“Ah, there you are. You are free to enter now. Just…leave the shirt off while you do business with the chief, yeah? Got to show your humility.” His tusky grin made Rigurt’s skin crawl. He hoped not all Orc strongholds were like this…


	9. Forbidden Desires

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Day 9: Pegging
> 
> Warnings: I would consider dubious consent due to lack of information

He should have suspected something, the way the merchant had grinned slyly at him when he’d picked up the package for Lady Velan. At the time, he had been preoccupied with the thought of their upcoming rendezvous at her manor. He’d never been with a Dark Elf, and as far as they went, she was regal and fair. No, the contents of the box were the least of his concerns, all he knew was that he had to pick it up and deliver it as soon as possible so they could get to the fun.

He also didn’t suspect that she was married, though to his credit she had taken great pains to conceal this fact. The Lord of the manor was away on business, as he so often was, and she’d dismissed her servants for the day to take in the celebration of the Pact emissaries’ arrival. Her instructions for him to use the back door were probably suspicious, but Rigurt was trusting by nature.

So there he was, lying face-down on the large bed in the master’s chambers, naked and wondering just what she was up to behind him as he heard the sounds of the box being opened. Was this some kind of Dark Elf game they played in the bedroom? “Lady Velan, what are you doing?” he finally asked, squirming in impatience. He didn’t dare turn to look, not after receiving his orders.

“Just preparing. It’s a surprise, Rigurt darling. Just a little longer, then I will be ready to play.” 

The truth of the matter was that Rigurt was not only a big strong Nord for the Dunmeri noblewoman enjoy, but someone outside the Dunmeri culture. So many rules about what was taboo in the bedroom, so many boring nights of going through the motions with her husband out of obligation… Here, lying before her, was a chance to enact one of her dirtiest fantasies, one that would never be accepted by her husband or society in general. She had no doubt it would be worth every piece of gold she’d spent.

She finished adjusting the harness, previously contained within the box, admiring the way it fit snuggly about her hips. The cool, smooth feeling of the ivory tip as she idly stroked it was equally pleasing. “Tell me, Rigurt darling, have you ever been taken?”

“Have I…Uhh, I’m not sure what you mean?”

“Hmm. I’ll have to start slowly then. Good thing we have all evening…”


	10. Sweet Dreams (or Nightmares)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Day 10: Somnophilia
> 
> Big warning here: Non-con. Nothing graphic mentioned, but very much non-con. The only saving grace is that Rigurt has no idea what even happened.

It wasn’t fair. Dryskins were just not interested in mating with Argonians for some reason. While that didn’t bother most of her kind, it certainly bothered her. The server at the bar in Stormhold eyed the establishment’s most recent arrival longingly, the way his muscles flexed under soft skin, the tousled hair in small ponytails on his head. And she imagined he would be so WARM. 

She wanted him. She would have him. His earlier dismissal was irrelevant.

She waited until just before she was off the clock, ensuring she wouldn’t be missed once her plan unfolded. It was a simple matter to slip something into his drink; there were too many plants in the swamp to name, all with unique properties, and her skills with mixing ingredients extended past just drinks. Soon, the ambassador was tipsy. As she’d predicted, no one thought twice about it, assuming the big Nord was drunk, as most Nords were at a tavern. Only she knew, and she offered to lead him back to a room, free of charge for the esteemed visitor to Shadowfen.

“Normally I can hold my mead better than this,” he slurred as he stumbled forward.

“Oh, it’s not a problem, sir. Not a problem at all…”

They barely made it to the room when he completely blacked out. Thank Sithis she’d gotten him to the bed first, because there was no way she’d be able to handle his dead weight! Staring down at his unconscious form, she ran a claw against the skin of his cheek. He didn’t even flinch. “Let’s see exactly what you look like under those clothes, Dryskin… I’m going to get to know you very intimately before your poison wears off.”

VVVVVVVVVVVVVv

The next morning, Rigurt found himself naked in bed. As far as he could remember, he’d been hitting the drink. Must have gotten lucky with someone at the tavern, though he couldn’t for the life of him recall who.


	11. Magic Touch

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Day 11: Temperature Play
> 
> Wanings: None

“I hear you Nords are resistant to the cold. How about we test that theory, huh?” 

“Must you mages test things all the time?” Rigurt grumbled, yet he remained still as the seasoned Imperial leaned forward with glowing hands. He mistrusted magic as much as the next Nord, and certainly was not thrilled with the idea of it being used in such an…intimate…situation as this. Still, he was trying to get in the good graces of the mages guild, and did not want to offend. After all, they had all but kicked him out, ignoring his overtures of treaties because they apparently did not get involved in politics, and only Irena offered to put in a good word for his cause. If Irena wanted to use minor frost magic on him as foreplay, he could deal with it.

The closer her hands got to his nipples, the less certain he felt though.

Finally she pinched, her fingertips inhumanly cold. It was true that he was resistant to cold, but such direct contact to such a tender area was a different story. She smirked as his nipples pebbled and he recoiled. “Interesting reaction. You are sensitive, I see.” She went for a less direct approach then, opting to lightly trace around the area and admiring how he hardened in multiple ways simultaneously from her treatment. “Now, what would happen if I tried somewhere else, I wonder?”

“Oh Shor’s bones…”

Her fingers traced lower. Cold did not do men any favors down there, Rigurt was fairly certain, but he figured he had enough to work with that it wouldn’t matter. Hopefully she wouldn’t lose concentration and freeze his bits off!

“When we’re-ack!” Rigurt was interrupted by her fingers running along the underside of his length. He wasn’t sure if the resulting shiver was due to the cold or the stimulation. “When we’re done, you will warm me back up, right?”

“What, with some fire magic?”

Rigurt’s eyes went wide in terror at the thought. “No, no! I was thinking something less…dangerous. Something more feminine?”

She laughed to see his expression. “Of course.”


	12. Playing Footsy

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Day 12: Feet
> 
> Warnings: None

The longer Rigurt traveled, the more things he experienced. Who knew that he could still be surprised by a woman’s request?

Rather, it was her actions, not her request. He didn’t see it coming, not from such a refined Breton matron. They’d made their arrangements between drinks at the gala, booked the room at the tavern, and started removing clothes. Then it got strange.

She pulled him onto the bed, joining him as well. Then, instead of beginning the normal process of getting handsy, she got…footsy. He wasn’t sure how exactly to react when she leaned her weight back, allowing her to take his length between her feet and begin rubbing. It could be worse, of course; as far as feet went, hers were lovely enough. She didn’t have any warts or gangrene, and given her life of leisure, they were soft and uncalloused. If he closed his eyes and focused on the pleasurable feeling, he could almost forget the strange sight it made. 

Suddenly, the sensation stopped. When he opened his eyes, he was startled to find one of her feet in his face. “Suck. And little nibbles on the pads of my toes.”

What? Why not her neck, her breasts, her sex? Why in Oblivion her toes? But Rigurt had no intention of being rude, so despite being entirely unsure how to do as she asked, he set to work. The feel of his beard against the soles of her feet made her shudder in delight. “Ah, that’s good! Keep that up, Rigurt, and I might just reciprocate.”

Did he even want her to reciprocate? Couldn’t hurt to try. Maybe he was missing out on something all these years?


	13. The Lady's Pet

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Day 14: Collaring
> 
> Warnings: Extremely dubious consent (think blackmail)

“There, a fine gift for our ambassador, is it not?” Lady Izza purred, quite literally.

The collar she’d fastened around his neck was…not something he would have considered wearing any other day (and even now he had his doubts), but he had to admit that the craftsmanship was very nice: supple leather, silver fastenings, and the bell... Well, the bell was a bit unusual, but it must have significance for the culture. If nothing else, it emphasized his rippling neck. “Rigurt will jingle it with pride! Is this a traditional Khajiiti gift?”

“This one wouldn’t say that.” The tip of her tail twitched in mischief. “More like a gift for those that cannot tell a cat and a Khajiit apart.”

Oh, he thought he’d gotten away with it after his masterful smokescreen… Rigurt’s face burned red. “I’m sorry, Lady Izza, I…”

“…will experience being the pet tonight.” She reached over and extended a claw to jingle the bell. “That is, if you do not want this story circulating around Rimmen’s nobility…it would surely make it hard to take you seriously if they knew you didn’t even know the people you were sent to reconcile with.”

The gears in his brain were working furiously as he attempted to process the underlying meaning. “So you want me to wear this collar and you will say nothing?”

“You will wear the collar and do as I say for the evening, and I will say nothing,” she amended.

“What…kinds of things?” He wasn’t so sure he wanted to know, not with the way she was appraising him with those golden eyes.

“Things befitting of a pet. Now, on your hands and knees, Rigurt.”

Rigurt looked right, then left, then right again. Thank the gods that no one could be seen from her private patio. He sank to the ground in resignation. How could he go from being so elated to so defeated in a matter of minutes?

“Good boy.” She patted his head while flashing a toothy smile. “This one will make sure that you become VERY well acquainted with Khajiit tonight.”


	14. Second Best Isn't so Bad

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Day 15: Massage
> 
> Warnings: none

Rigurt still wasn’t quite sure what to make of his current situation, but it certainly felt good for the moment. Rulfala had, as far as he could tell, disrupted his goal of wooing Lazdutha by instead taking things…too far for an initial courtship? And apparently establishing an betrothal? This should have angered him, but it was hard to be angry when there was excellent cheese, exquisite ale, and a receptive Orcish partner who could hardly keep her hands off of him once they retired to a room at the inn. Indeed her hands wandered all over his body even as he finished the last drops of ale, from his thick shoulders, down his torso, and to rock-solid thighs.

“Oh Rigurt, so strong, so muscular…” Rulfala purred, moving fully onto his lap so she could lean in for a kiss. It took a second or two to navigate around the tusks, but once that was settled, he rather enjoyed it. 

“The hardships of the road,” he declared, squeezing her tightly to his body.

“How about you get out of that shirt so I can see you better?” she suggested hopefully.

“Only if you promise you will try to smooth things over with Lazdutha in the morning… Rigurt doesn’t know what went wrong, but perhaps you can explain that I didn’t mean to offend. It would be terrible if my mission for peace failed because of a misunderstanding…”

Rulfala placed a finger to his lips. “Yes, yes, I will see to it, but no talk of her tonight. Just you and me, okay?”

She wasn’t the jade princess he’d had in mind, but she certainly was a decent catch, as long as she could be trusted. “Okay, but just to be clear, tonight only. No marriage!” He hoisted her off of his lap, causing her to grin with glee. Then, he removed his shirt.

“If you lay face down on the bed, I will give you a nice massage.”

At that, Rigurt felt a bit wary. Some unplanned things had happened in the past when he was put in this position. “Just a massage?”

“Massage, groping…same difference.”

“No surprises.”

“No surprises.”

Perhaps not the best idea given her track record, but he liked to believe the best in people. Happily, this time he was rewarded as the knots in his shoulders melted away under her firm touch. It was strange, being caught between drowsiness and arousal as she worked. He blamed the ale and cheese, but for whatever reason, he couldn’t blame Rulfala.


	15. Heart's Desire

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Day 24: Masturbation
> 
> Warnings: None

Traveling deep into Black Marsh left him feeling restless. It had been far too long since he’d found someone to bed, seeing as the villages were comprised almost exclusively Argonians, and Argonians did not do it for him. It bothered him almost as much as the damp and the bugs. How much longer until he could go to High Rock, land of delicate maidens, or Summerset, isle of golden beauties?

Laying on his bed, staring at the ceiling, Rigurt found his hand wandering into his trousers, lazily stroking himself as he imagined what might lay ahead. It was hard to fix his attention on one, given all of his travels and all the types of women he’d been with in the last few months. What did he really want? Whose hand did he really want it to be twisting and tugging?

He realized with a start that he wanted it to be someone gentler, someone more invested in him than with themselves. If anything was lacking during his expedition, it was affection. Not that he could complain about the majority of the sex he’d had; there were certainly no feelings to be expected from his trysts. Still, wouldn’t it be nice if…

He cupped himself with a groan as he thought of home. Perhaps his deeds would earn him the admiration of someone special. Someone who would want to please him. Someone who would shower him with praise. It didn’t take long for him to get lost in this fantasy, though he still wasn’t sure what she would look like. The face didn’t matter. Her feelings did. The constant string of adulation he imagined she would have for himself had him cumming before he could even think to remove his trousers.

“Sweet Mara,” he sighed, quickly realizing his folly. “Surely Rigurt has done much to earn such a favor from the She-Wolf!”


End file.
